


The Adventure Of The Ferrers Documents

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [86]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, F/M, Framing Story, M/M, Old Age, Oxford, Slow Burn, Teasing, Theft, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Watson is feeling his age, and Sherlock is totally sympathetic and understanding as they solve a case in Oxford. In a related incident, pigs fly over the Chiltern Hills.





	The Adventure Of The Ferrers Documents

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calais_Reno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calais_Reno/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

Tyler, who is one of our three American boys, once made a most astute observation to Kean and myself about our Nation. He noted that we often seemed to adopt a slapdash approach to historical things perhaps because we had so many of them, whilst in his homeland a building more than a century old was considered 'ancient'. This case concerned an item which, rather like the famous Parva Carta covered earlier, reflected its time in a way that made it quite irreplaceable – and where there is money, there is usually crime lurking somewhere close by.

 _Someone_ was also lurking close by, and has somehow managed to get his hand right up.... oh my Lord, how can he be that flexible?

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

Only a few days before we embarked on the adventure later described in the story _The Priory School_ , Holmes was engaged in another small matter which, whilst it could not be written up at the time, I recorded for its interest on several small points. In particular, how those who turn to a life of crime will use any and every means to cover their misdeeds, often relying on the human weaknesses of those around them.

I had been to Oxford for the day and had returned to Baker Street feeling exceptionally low. I had hoped that Holmes would be away so I could just slip to my room and carry on my depression in peace, so of course he was there reading. Although I grunted a greeting and walked quickly to my own room, he called after me.

“Watson?”

He sounded concerned and I sighed in defeat. I turned on my heels and went slowly over to my chair, falling heavily into it. He quirked an eyebrow at me.

“Your trip went ill?” he asked.

“Very ill”, I said glumly. 

“I thought that you were looking forward to seeing Stamford?” he asked, clearly puzzled. “Had I not had this latest government mess of Mycroft's to untangle, I would have liked to have accompanied you.”

“Hmph.”

He stared at me in confusion.

“The ‘Stamford’ who asked to meet me in Oxford was not just our friend James from Northumberland”, I said bitterly. “It was also his son, Joshua. His _adult_ son, who is in his first year at Bonaventure College. He and his father met me there.”

At any other time Holmes's confusion would probably have amused me – it was rare enough - but now he seemed genuinely perplexed by my reaction.

“You did know that he had a son?” he asked.

“Yes”, I said, knowing how foolish I sounded. “I just never did the mathematics. I last saw Stamford six years back before he left for his post in Africa and Joshua was only fifteen years of age at the time, a weed of a boy. The weed has grown into a man.”

“Did you not get on well with the boy?” he asked. I looked up at him mournfully.

“Stamford is almost my age”, I said dully, “yet he is married and has a son attending university. A six-foot-tall giant, who is a man. I just feel old!”

He looked shocked at that.

“John Watson!” he said sternly, “you are not old. You are forty-nine years of age, in the prime of your life and barely two years older than my good self. And as for useless – how would I manage without you?”

He had never said that to me before. I uttered what was most definitely a manly sniff.

“Perhaps”, I said. 

“Did Stamford or his son have a reason for wanting to see you today?” he asked. 

“Stamford – Joshua - is concerned that a friend of his has been falsely accused of theft”, I said. “I promised him that I would ask if you could spare some time to look into it, though I warned him how busy you have been of late.”

“True”, he said, “but I always make time for good friends. We could go to Oxford on Wednesday next, if you wish.”

I looked at the calendar and sighed. Nineteen hundred and one. Twenty years since I had met Holmes.

“Would you rather just I go?” he offered.

“Of course not!” I protested. “It has just…. been a long time.”

“Full two decades”, he said. “But look on the bright side.”

“What bright side?” I asked.

“I read somewhere that the Great Western Railway may soon be offering discounts for elderly travellers!” 

I scowled at him. That was just _mean!_

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

The following week Holmes and I did go to Oxford, where we met our friend's son. Joshua Stamford was what some people (rather offensively, I always thought) then called a half-caste, a phraseology which is thankfully fading from common usage. His father had married a black lady from the United States, much against his grandfather’s initial wishes, but seemingly the fragrant Lucia had rapidly won the truculent elderly relative over. She had also more than secured the family line, producing some six sons and two daughters for her husband, yet miraculously keeping her slim figure, from the last time I had seen her in ‘Eighty-Nine just after the birth of her youngest child, Elizabeth. Her son was strikingly handsome and clearly not white, and I wondered whether he would find that a hindrance in the life that lay ahead of him. Then again Inspector Smith had prospered well enough, the English by and large caring little for race provided people fitted into their culture.

“Thank you for coming, Uncle John”, he smiled. 

Yes, I had stood godfather to the boy at his christening. I did not need to be called that! Or to have a soon to be ex-friend smirk knowingly at me.

“I have brought Holmes as promised”, I said, taking a seat. It had been a cold day, the journey up had been tiring and…..

Lord, I would be looking round for my pipe and slippers next!

“Please tell me about your friend’s problems”, Holmes said, sitting down far more elegantly than my near-collapse. 

“His name is Calum O'Connor, and he is from Bantry in the county of Cork”, the young man said. “I mention that because the man accusing him is fervently anti-Irish, and I feel that that may have played a part in his being under suspicion. Cal is a good man, a little to prone to parties and the social scene, but I suppose that we all have our weaknesses.”

Holmes looked at him pointedly. The tall man blushed.

“I am courting his sister Hermione”, he admitted.

_How did he do that?_

“Thank you”, Holmes said. “Do go on.”

“Cal lives like we all do with two other students in a self-contained set of rooms”, Stamford said. “His room-mates are two young lads over here from the United States, Edward Peters and Harold Lowell. Both pleasant enough young men I have always thought – and yet one of them must be guilty if Cal is innocent.”

“If?” I questioned. “You doubt your friend?”

Stamford blushed. 

“It is all very awkward”, he said. “You see, about thirty years ago the university came into possession of something called the Ferrers Documents. They were over three centuries old but did not seem to be of any great import, being just an official confirmation of a land-grant by Queen Elizabeth to one of her middle-ranking noblemen, Lord Ferdinand Ferrers. But Calum was about to change all that. He is a sharp fellow, and he noted when he examined the copy that we are allowed to touch – obviously not the original as that is very fragile – that the wording seemed a little clumsy. And since he had access to other work from the same scribe, he knew that that was wrong in some way.”

“So?” I prompted.

“He cracked the code used by the fellow who wrote it”, Stamford explained. “The scribe added an extra flourish to the last vowel in some of the words, and by taking those out he found a message that said Lord Ferrers was a secret Catholic plotting to kill the Queen.”

Anyone who knows anything about Elizabethan history will know to what extent that discovery would turn our view of the time on its head. Lord Ferrers had been one of the most ardent Puritans of his day, and had been killed when crossing to France to collect the body of his late father who had forfeited his title when he had converted to Catholicism and fled the country..... oh.

“Watson has just put two and two together to make four”, Holmes smiled. “This college was founded by Lord Ferdinand's direct descendant Lord David. I do not think he would be too happy at such a 'find'.”

“It has not been made public yet”, Stamford said, “as Cal wanted to be sure of his work. And now he may be thrown out of college after the original papers were stolen whilst he was working on them!”

“Very convenient for those who do not wish Lord Ferdinand's malfeasance to be made public”, Holmes said. “This will not be easy. Where were the papers kept?”

“In the university museum, which is next to the three boys' room”, Stamford said. “There is a connecting door but it was always kept locked, and the museum is only unlocked if someone asks to see it. The only other way in was through the boys’ room – and when the college authorities checked the door, they found someone had both oiled and unlocked it.”

“Why would they oil it?” I asked.

“There is a heavy curtain on the other side of the door”, Stamford explained. “I suppose that if the door could be opened silently, someone could then listen to make sure that the room was empty before pulling back the curtain.”

“But what about the main way in?” Holmes asked. “Anyone with the keys to it could have entered at a time of their own choosing.”

“The main door has two keys”, Stamford said. “One is always with the Chancellor, but he is off sick at the moment, so the Vice-Chancellor is in charge. His name is Mr. Silas Barrowman, and he is a really nasty piece of work, one of those oily fellows who perfumes his hair. The other key is on the House Master’s set; Bonaventure is split into six houses, and a fellow called Mr. Ferdinand Amory is in charge of Calum’s house, Trafalgar. Calum says that Amory doesn’t like the two Americans as he thinks they are too loud, but he himself has never had any problems with him.”

“How do you think someone could have oiled the connecting door?” Holmes asked.

“That would have been easy”, Stamford said. “Trafalgar had a fire alarm test last week and everyone was kept waiting outside in the freezing cold for fifteen minutes. Someone could have slipped in and done it then. It is not the sort of thing that the boys would have checked.”

“Does the museum connect with the room of any other students?” Holmes asked. Stamford shook his head.

“There is another door”, he said, “but it is only a store room.”

“I am surprised that they allowed this friend of yours to examine the document”, I said, “especially given its recent importance,”

“I should have been clearer on that point”, Stamford said apologetically. “The museum has a single study area at the back for people who wish to examine the exhibits closely, but in the case of the papers there is a copy that Calum was allowed to actually hold. He said that it was the slight differences between the two that made him go back and look at the original, and that was when he saw what he saw.”

“Were not the papers in a locked case?” Holmes asked.

“That was the other thing that was odd”, Stamford said. “Of course I did not tell the authorities what I am about to tell you, but I happen to know that Calum is an excellent lock-picker. Yet the lock was smashed quite crudely.”

“The authorities would doubtless claim that that was him hiding his tracks, though”, Holmes said. “I think that it is time I met these three young gentlemen, preferably in their own room. Can it be arranged?”

“I am sure that they would welcome any help they can get”, Stamford said fervently.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

A short time later we did indeed meet the three young men. O'Connor was blond, anaemic-looking and seemed like he was at least ten years short of his proclaimed twenty-five, making me feel even older than I already did (if there was as much as a smirk from someone in the vicinity, he would be taking his own train back to London!). Peters was a solidly built chap with a stylized and rather pretentious beard and what I considered an intelligent expression, whilst Lowell was thinner, dark-haired, quiet and clearly a little wary of us. All three were psychology majors, the college policy being to group students on similar courses where possible.

“They had some guests in to view the exhibits at a little after two that day”, O'Connor explained, “so the papers were there then. Harry and Ed were studying at the library, whilst I was in my room.”

Holmes looked pointedly at the two Americans, who both blushed.

“The Carpenter’s Arms, sir”, Peters, muttered. I shook my head at his omniscience.

“We got back at four-thirty and did actually go to the library for an hour”, Lowell said defensively. At another look he added, “or so. We did not get back to the room until half-past five, by which time all hell had broken loose.”

Holmes turned to O'Connor.

“You were here all the time?” he asked.

“Except for when I got called down to see Forster, the beadle”, the young man said. “That would have been around three-thirty, I think. He had received a badly-addressed letter but we eventually worked out it was actually for Fitzhugh down on the second floor.”

“How long were you gone for?” Holmes asked. 

“Not more than ten minutes, I think”, he said. “Is it important?”

Holmes did not answer him, but looked across to the nearby wall where there was another solid-looking door. 

“Where does that lead?” he asked.

“Into Judson’s rooms, which he shares with Hall and Makepeace”, Lowell said. “They're art students and are on a jaunt down in London this week. Lucky sods!”

Holmes smiled his slow smile. A good sign.

“I think that I am beginning to see how this was done”, he said, “but not yet how it can be proven against the obvious culprit. Do all visitors to the house have to sign in?”

“Of course”, O'Connor said.

“Then our next port of call is the signing-in book”, Holmes said. “Gentlemen, your help today has been invaluable. Mr. O'Connor, I hope to have some news for you shortly. Good day!”

He rose and walked swiftly from the room. I hurried after him.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

“This was a complex crime, doctor”, Holmes said as we made our way down from the top floor. “At least three men were implicated in its workings, and it will be difficult to break through their ring of deceit. Let us start with our next port of call.”

I realized that we were outside the beadle’s rooms.

“The beadle?” I said in a low voice. “But he is a loyal servant of the college!”

“Many crimes need someone who does exactly what he is told for a price”, Holmes said. “Think. Part of the crime involved luring Mr. O'Connor away from his room for long enough for the real perpetrator to escape. I would wager that if we went to Mr. Fitzhugh and asked him about that letter, he would either know nothing about it or would have said that it was not his.”

“But how did the thieves do it?” I asked. “The museum is on the second floor.”

“We will come to that shortly”, Holmes said. “In the meantime, let us see what we can learn from Mr. Forster.”

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

The beadle was shocked that Mr. O'Connor had come under suspicion but then, he said, the man was part-Irish. It was notable that when Holmes asked him how the Fitzhugh letter had been found after the other letters had been distributed, there was a definite pause before the beadle said he had 'missed' it. My friend also asked to see the list of recent visitors to the house for the day in question and told me to copy down all the names from the past ten days, which took some time. After we had left I asked him why, only for him to pull me into an alcove.

“Watch!” he whispered.

I stared at him, then noticed a figure leaving the building that we had just vacated. It was the beadle, his rotund figure bowling hurriedly across the college green to the Chancellor’s offices where he knocked only briefly before entering. Holmes chuckled.

“Loyal, but I doubt that the estimable Vice-Chancellor will be pleased when he comes calling”, he said. “Let us go round the back and see what we can see.”

“Why did you want the names of all those people?” I asked.

“I only really wanted the ones who visited on the day of the crime”, Holmes said. “But it will calm the criminals that I am looking so far back as they will think I am on the wrong trail. One of the names from yesterday is involved in the deed for which Mr. O'Connor was blamed. I can telegraph them to Miss Fay and she can perhaps find a link between one of them and the Vice-Chancellor. Unless they used a false name of course.”

He led me round behind the main building, and I realized that we must be by the corner outside the three students' rooms. Each of the first- and second-floor rooms had their own balcony, albeit a small one, but there were gargoyles in the forms of carved lions protruding out from between each one. There was no way a man could have leapt over one of those unless he was part monkey.

Holmes began looking around the flower beds as if he had lost something, but seemingly without finding whatever he was seeking.

“Rope”, he said. “A pity; it seems that it has been removed. Never mind. How do you feel about a night in the city of dreaming spires?”

“You think that we should stay?” I asked.

“From my time in the beadle’s room, I noted that he has a half-day tomorrow when his deputy is in charge”, Holmes said. “There are two further things I would like to examine, but I do not wish to alarm the criminals too much by doing so in the beadle’s presence. It would also be good if the Chancellor could be persuaded to rise from his sickbed to join us.”

I nodded and we left for the town.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

The Chancellor was a bandy-legged little fellow called, perhaps appropriately, Mr. Charles Wisdom. His doctor had recommended a further week of rest, but on hearing of Holmes’ interest in the case he was naturally eager for an opportunity that the whole matter be resolved. He accompanied us up to the room from where the theft had taken place, and although the ascent clearly tired him he looked keen to find out what we had to say. 

“There are three things I would like to examine”, my friend said. “If they are as I expect then the case is solved, although proving it may be more difficult. First I would like to examine the museum.”

“Of course”, the Chancellor said, producing a huge set of keys and fumbling until he found the correct one for the museum door. “Doubtless you will wish to see the case that the papers were taken from?”

No, sir”, Holmes said as he followed the Chancellor into the room. “I wish to see the store cupboard.

The Chancellor looked more than a little surprised.

“The store cupboard?” he said dubiously.

“Indeed”, Holmes said. “I presume that it is not locked?”

“Hardly”, the Chancellor said with a laugh. “We do not think thieves will go for mops, buckets and cleaning fluid when the room has expensive historical artefacts in it!”

He unlocked the museum which was dark as the windows at the back were shuttered. The store cupboard was, I thought, spectacularly uninteresting, but from the smile on his face I guessed that Holmes was happy with what he saw. He looked around the main room and nodded.

“What were you expecting to find?” the Chancellor asked curiously.

“It was more a case of what I was expecting to not find”, Holmes said. “All is as I suspected.”

“You are not thinking that a man could have gained access through that tiny window in the store-room, surely?” the Chancellor asked. 

“That was not my idea”, Holmes said. “May we see Mr. Judson's room, please?”

“I hope that you are not going to suggest he had anything to do with the crime”, the Chancellor said as he followed us out of the museum, locking the door behind us. “Not only was he absent at the time of the theft, but his father is one of the college's major benefactors and a most respectable personage.”

“My current theory would place Mr. Judson clear of any involvement”, Holmes said. “Although his rooms played a major part in the crime.”

He would say no more until we entered a set of rooms almost identical to Mr. O'Connor's, if somewhat tidier. Holmes crossed to the door which had to lead back into O'Connor's room.

“The connecting doors were locked when we put in fire-escapes”, the Chancellor explained. “Before then there was the danger that people could be trapped in a room with no way out. They are not used now.”

Holmes pointed to the hinges of the door by him, and we both moved closer to look. They had clearly been oiled.

“Oiled from _this_ side”, Holmes pointed out. “You can see where a small drop has run down a little way. I did a quick check whilst we were in the other room, and there was no application of oil there. Since Mr. O'Connor had no access to this room, he could not have done this.”

“An accomplice?” the Chancellor suggested.

“There were at least three men in this crime”, Holmes said. “I have one more thing to look at then I shall hopefully be able to explain matters to you. Though I should warn you now, it will not be good news.”

He walked over to the balcony door before the Chancellor could say anything, opened it and stepped out. The balcony itself was barely big enough for a single chair, and had iron railings around the edge. Holmes looked at them, and smiled again. 

“All is as I thought”, he said. “Chancellor, we will adjourn to your offices and discuss matters there.”

I looked at the balcony but could not see anything out of the ordinary about it. Sighing, I followed my friend.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

Outside the Chancellor's offices he was met by his secretary.

“Mr. Barrowman has had to go into town unexpectedly, sir”, she said. “He said that he might spend the night at a friend's house there.”

I looked at Holmes in alarm – this was one of his suspects, surely? - but the man seemed unperturbed. 

“Thank you Miss Winterbourne”, the Chancellor said. “Will you please ensure that we are not disturbed?”

The secretary looked at us curiously and nodded. The Chancellor ushered us into his study and bade us sit down.

“First”, Holmes said, “I have mixed news for you, Chancellor. The good news is that I have some hopes of recovering your stolen papers.”

“That is good”, the man smiled.

“The bad news is that your Vice-Chancellor stole them.”

The man before us went deathly pale.

“Silas?” he quavered. Holmes nodded.

“Mr. Barrowman was not about to see the name of one of the college's main beneficiaries damaged by the investigative abilities of an American-Irish student”, Holmes said. “He knew that what Mr. O'Connor had found was explosive, so he sought to destroy that young gentleman before he could make his knowledge public. Everyone would then just believe that his claims were, to coin a phrase 'sour grapes'.”

“No! There is no way he could have done this!”

Holmes sat back.

“As I said, there were at least three people involved”, he said. “The Vice-Chancellor, an associate of his, and the beadle, Forster. The Vice-Chancellor's role was critical. Once you fell ill he arranged for the three boys in the room next door but one to the museum to be sent on a week-long field trip to London. Their room was a pivotal part of the plan to throw suspicion on Mr. O'Connor. He also set a fire-alarm test so that he could oil and unlock the doors between Mr. O'Connor's and the adjoining rooms.”

“On the day of the theft he conducted a small party around the museum. It was easy for him to add an extra member to the party, whom I now know signed in under a false name. Had the police been more thorough and started investigating those who had come to the museum that day, I am sure that the associate would have been identified by the Vice-Chancellor as someone who had left the room with him. Of course he did no such thing.”

“Where was he?” the Chancellor asked.

“Left behind in the room”, Holmes said. “The Vice-Chancellor saw the other guests out as they finished viewing, then followed at some distance, apparently talking to his associate. If asked, the beadle would have doubtless said that he heard the Vice-Chancellor pass by his room and that he had someone of the correct description with him. What actually happened was that the associate was left in the store cupboard until the Vice-Chancellor could be certain that Mr. O'Connor was in the next room. He knew the the other students in the room would be out that day, and presumably there was an arrangement that if he did not return within a set time then the evils cheme could go ahead.”

“How do you know that this associate waited in the store cupboard?” the Chancellor asked. “I saw no signs of anyone having been there.”

“Precisely”, Holmes said.

We both looked at him.

“The shelves were as dusty as one might have expected”, he said. “but the _floor_ had been very recently swept. Quite thoroughly too. Someone did not want to risk the danger of their presence in that cupboard being detected.”

“I see a flaw in what happened next, though”, the Chancellor said. “How did the thief escape from the room without being detected. It is a busy enough place.”

“He simply walked though Mr. O'Connor's room into Mr. Judson's”, Holmes said.

“But Mr. O'Connor would have seen him!” I objected.

“You are forgetting the beadle”, Holmes said. “He has been provided with a badly-addressed letter, and at a set time he summons Mr. O'Connor down to get it. Meanwhile the associate, now plus a set of papers, is waiting to hear Mr. O'Connor open his door to leave. After a few moments he smashes the glass, then passes through Mr. O'Connor's empty room into Mr. Judson's, locking the door behind him.”

“Why would he had to have oiled the door, then?” I wondered.

“Have you ever heard the sound of a door being opened for the first time in years?” Holmes asked. “The noise might well have reached through to the students in the next room along, whom I found had been questioned. That was the point of my question about the doors; they had been locked for a long time when this happened.”

“But how did the thief get out of Mr. Judson's room?” the Chancellor asked. “That is directly opposite the staircase.”

“He descended from the balcony”, Holmes said. “If you had looked closely at the railings outside that room, you would have noticed that one of them was slightly bent and had some rope marks on it. The associate tied a rope around it and descended that way, then fled the college. Although it adjoins Mr. O'Connor's room, Mr. Judson's window is around the corner of the building and faces south, not east.”

The Chancellor was silent.

“I have contacted an associate of mine”, Holmes said reassuringly, “and the Oxford Constabulary will very shortly be paying Mr. Barrowman a visit. He will not get far.”

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

As so often, Holmes was proven right. Mr. Silas Barrowman had gone straight to the house of the man he had employed in the robbery, a Mr. Robert Ventura, and both men were quickly arrested, receiving long sentences that would not let them breathe free air for many a year. It turned out that the Vice-Chancellor had coerced the beadle into helping him by threatening his employment, and because of that the man was allowed to retire rather than be sacked, which I suppose was fair enough. Lord Ferrers was, as might have been expected, far from happy at having his ancestor's malfeasance exposed by a mere student and immediately withdrew his support from the college, but they were able to get by without him, whilst he had to suffer the additional annoyance of seeing Mr. O'Connor receive many plaudits for his brilliant scholastic work. And young Stamford thanked us for helping out his friend.

I still felt old, though.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
